Fifth Issue of Our Literary Journal Foment

Lynn Coady's award-winning book, Hellgoing, brings together nine
self-contained stories that take a realistic and thought-provoking look at a
wide range of human relationships in today's world. We are pushed or pulled
into something like a voyeur's role, observing in close-up fragments of ongoing
or evolving relationships between an array of distinct characters; be they as
couples, with family or friends, or crossing paths in professional or casual
encounters. Reading these stories can at times be a bit of a rough ride, rarely
smooth, easy or pleasant. While they might leave us with a sense of unease they
also stimulate us to consider more deeply the underlying questions and issues
that the author raises. Are they a reflection of contemporary reality or, at
minimum, of certain aspects of it? Among the comments on the book's back cover
the National Post's quote reflects my own experience closely: "...There is
a searing honesty here about humankind's inability or unwillingness, to make an
effort at connection, but the author's own humanity rescues her vision from
descending into despair or nihilism." I couldn't state my reaction any
better.

At the recent Ottawa International Writers' Festival Lynn Coady participated in an in depth discussion on short story
writing. The story from the collection
that she read that evening, "Mr. Hope", has remained etched in my
mind more than any of the others. It is written from the perspective of a young
female teacher, returning now to her first school, who is reliving her
childhood memories, her experiences in school and her first encounters with her
teacher, Mr. Hope. Coady exquisitely captures the feelings of a young girl.
Interweaving the vividly reimagined child's perception with that of the
hindsight of the adult looking back, the author tells a story that not only
conveys narrative tension and inner drama, she convincingly brings out the
girl's emotional confusion and conflicts in a way that will, in some way or another,
sound familiar to most readers.

Among the other stories, some characters stand out for me more than
others, such as the nun in a hospital who uses her counselling to get an
anorexic girl with a religious obsession to take "some food." The
title story tackles another important and well-known subject: deep and lasting family tensions going back
to the protagonist's childhood. A "reunion" brings them to the fore
as if the decades in between had been non-existent. Events, however, demand a
different response so many years later. While all stories are written from the
distance of a third person narrator, they do often cut through the surface of
the characters' 'normalcy' and expose what lies underneath.

Coady's stories
focus more on the women's mental state of mind than that of their male
counterparts. There is, for example, Erin who has discovered that
"twenty-something" sex is no longer adequate (or never was) and her
new partner is a willing if somewhat reluctant participant in the new excitements.
Coady pinpoints many of the ambitions and anxieties that younger women
experience, be they a publicity assistant whose constant texting might
interfere with more important news, or a young author participating in a
writers' retreat. While romantic love is totally absent from Coady's story
collection, however, she is an astute observer of people and scenarios and her
depiction of her central characters is not without a sense of humour or irony.

There was a lot of excited chatter in the church before the
event began—then lots of applause when Sean Wilson, OIWF Artistic Director,
introduced Ian Rankin. The funds raised are used to support the OIWF's literacy programs
across Ottawa, and Sean Wilson noted that 500 students will benefit from the
program next year—thanks to Ian Rankin (and to everyone else who'd attended!)

Host Alan Neal, who has interviewed Rankin several times,
started a very natural conversation about Rankin's well-known character, John
Rebus. "We're more alike than we've ever been," noted Rankin, adding
that he was young, unmarried, and without children when he wrote the first
Rebus novel. Today, however, he is noticing that the years are catching up with
him. In one of the books, Rankin explained, another character essentially calls
Rebus a vinyl guy in a digital world, and he feels that way himself sometimes. "I
can be more empathetic [toward Rebus now] than was previously the case,"
he said.

Much to the audience's delight, it became quite clear that
Alan Neal has a bit of a crush on one of Rankin's other characters, Detective
Sergeant Siobhan Clarke. Although it pained him, Neal had to ask why John Rebus
and Siobhan Clarke have never jumped into bed together. Aside from the fact
that their relationship is more "avuncular", Rankin was quick to
point out that "it would be a terrible experience for both of
them—especially her." Rankin also explained that he would rather not write
those scenes. When his editor asked him to remove a sex scene in his third
book, Rankin was relieved. "I'm not keen on following Rebus into the
bedroom, either," he admitted.

As the discussion turned to some of the fundamental elements
that make up Rebus's character, Neal asked if Rankin shares Rebus's hunger for
truth. Rebus needs to know the truth for his own satisfaction so that he can
move on to the next thing, but Rankin said that he actually likes loose ends.
He mentioned Caledonian Antisyzygy (a term he highly recommends for playing
Scrabble, even though you likely won't find enough tiles with the letter "y") and that it's something that he
likes to explore. Often, he'll read the newspaper or an article in a magazine,
picking away at it by considering what it "says about us as humans, as
Scottish society," and he will work through some of those themes and
contradictions in his work.

For his most recent novel, Saints of the Shadow Bible, Rankin was inspired by some stories and
anecdotes of retired cops who worked during the 1970s and 80s. He is often
invited to police retirement parties and joked that he has to run to the
washroom to jot down notes on toilet paper when a retiree's story sparks an
idea. Overall, though, the stories made him think about Rebus and how he would
have been as a much younger man. Was there a time when he was more idealistic?
Did something happen? The new novel delves into some of Rebus's past, so Rankin
said that he scrolled through all the (microfilm) issues of The Scotsman from 1983 and picked out
things that he thought would catch Rebus's eye. "I was looking at Rebus's
1983," he emphasized, "not mine." (Nobody could picture Rebus
dancing to Spandau Ballet, as it turned out...)

As a special treat, Neal invited Laura Smith on stage as she
had won a contest to have her name as a character in Saints of the Shadow Bible. To earn that honour, Smith contributed
to a fundraiser contest for the Ottawa-based Shepherds of Good Hope—which is happening again this year!
Neal pointed out that the "Laura Smith" in the novel is a significant
character (a crime reporter, in fact) and she actually gets to challenge Rebus.
Rankin and Smith read a scene aloud that involved an interaction between
"Laura Smith" and Rebus—and then the real Laura Smith quipped that
her parents had likely purchased every copy of Saints of the Shadow Bible in Calgary since her name is in it.

Finally, the discussion turned to Rankin's writing habits. "I'm
murder to live with when I'm writing a book," he said. He doesn't work
with notes or even do much pre-planning, so he is working everything out (the
main plot, all the sub-plots, character interactions, and how everything fits)
as he writes the first draft, which he writes quickly so that he doesn't forget
anything. "If you don't know who the killer is when you write the book,
chances are good that the reader doesn't either," he said with a laugh. He
also joked about a time when he was finishing the first draft of a book and
still hadn't figured out who the killer would be. There were four or five
characters, he said, "and I thought: Well,
it could be any one of you..."

It may be encouraging (or not!) for aspiring writers to know
that even with a solid body of work completed, Rankin still doesn't feel like a
master novelist. "I really thought it would get easier, [but] it gets
harder," he explained. "Every time I start, it's like I have to learn
all over again. It's why I don't teach creative writing—I don't know how to
write creatively!"

After some questions from CBC's All in a Day listeners and a couple from the live audience, there
were more rapturous applause before everyone leapt out of their seats to form
the line for Rankin's book signing. Neal was an excellent host, Rankin was a
fantastic guest—and after we got home (and my husband had had some single malt
in Rankin's honour), we agreed that it was a great night and that we would
definitely encourage people to attend the event if Rankin comes back to Ottawa
with his next book.

"Good
things happen from good things," Joseph Boyden said during the luncheon
that brought one hundred people together on a Sunday morning in Ottawa. The
main attraction? Prominent and popular author Joseph Boyden, there to discuss his
new book, The Orenda.
Besides serving as an enjoyable
get-together, complete with a copy of Boyden’s book for each participant, this
event was also a fund raiser for the Writers Festival School Literacy
Program. “The impact of this program has been phenomenal,” explained Sean
Wilson, Artistic Director of the Writers Festival. The luncheon raised enough money for the program
to enable 500 more students to experience an encounter with a "life"
author, to have a hands-on session with one of Canada's best writers.

Our
separate room in the Metropolitain Brasserie was packed and the buzz of the
conversations suggested that everybody had a great time chatting with each
other and with the author, who tried to meet as many people as possible. During
the main course, all eyes focused on Boyden and Wilson as they embarked on a
lively discussion that later expanded into a Q&A session. We could have
stayed much longer, but there was a book signing and another event scheduled
for the afternoon. Even then, Boyden took time to chat while signing his book
and was a willing subject for the many photos taken by fans.

Photo
credit: Friederike Knabe

Boyden's
new book, The Orenda, was the subject
matter of the majority of questions and comments. The conversation revealed the
author’s personal insights into the writing and the background for the new
novel: it was his conviction that this was a book he had to write. For those
who had heard him before, or had already read The Orenda, his answers provided more depth and context and
increased our appreciation for his writing and his choice of themes.

It
would be nearly impossible to report on the wealth of reflections that were
shared in this discussion. For me, there are several memorable aspects of
Joseph Boyden's message regarding The
Orenda and its importance as a novel on our pre-Canada history, as follows.

History
matters. Yet the past doesn't mean much to our life today unless it is
connected to the present in a meaningful way. For example, Boyden sees an
important link between the past as captured in The Orenda and the Idle No More movement today. As a child Boyden learned to view
history as boring. Many young people feel that today. Our interest in history
only changes when we can bring immediacy to the past and make relevant
connections. Boyden admitted that he is fascinated by the past and how it links
to the present and the future. For example, the last line in The Orenda makes that vision very clear:
it brings the past, the present, and the future together. Or in the words of one reviewer, "The Orenda is much more than a timely
novel. It is a timeless one; born a classic."

In
response to a question on whether the novel contains a political message,
Boyden answered that his preoccupation is first and foremost to tell a good
story. To him, good story telling brings a message to life. Characters and narrative
work closely together. For example, in this novel he introduced three diverse
individuals: Bird, a respected Huron (Wendat) warrior chief; Christophe, a
Jesuit priest (locally referred to as Crow); and a young Iroquois
(Haudenosaunee) girl, Snow Falls, who was captured and adopted by Bird after a
raid that brutally killed many of her people including her parents. Why did he
choose three characters? He was fascinated by triangular relationships. Also,
it was appropriate to do so in the novel, as each represent their specific
culture. There is no black and white, there are no bad guys. Crow is not
simplistic; he learns slowly and he appreciates the different world visions and
spiritual belief systems. That being said, he is also unaware of many things—for
example, the fact that it was he who brought disease to the indigenous
population.

Joseph Boyden felt very strongly that he
wanted to demonstrate that before the Canada of 1867, complex societies had
lived on the land for a very long time. He says, “In the sixteen hundreds these
were as populous as European societies." Before first contact with non-indigenous peoples, there was
a balance between the different indigenous societies. The Huron and the
Iroquois were agricultural with sophisticated social structures. The appearance
of the Europeans threw off the traditional balance in many ways.

Many
in the audience were curious about the girl, Snow Falls. How did she come into
the story? Well, he said, "She walked out of the mist into the story and
talked to me.” He admitted,
smiling, that characters do things he does not always expect, especially in the
case of Snow Falls. She often did things that Boyden wasn't planning to write, but
she insisted and he could only argue with her and try to find a solution that
would help him write her out of trouble.
In general, though, with seven older sisters, the author said he has no
problems getting into the mind of a girl; instead, he found writing the male characters
much more challenging.

In
closing, the author said much research went into The Orenda, but in the end, the dialogue is more important to him
than where the research takes him. Above all, Boyden’s first priority is to
tell a good story. And when reading this new novel, it is easy to see that he
accomplishes that goal.

The
room was packed by the time I made my way to the Writers Festival venue. As a typical university student, I
arrived five minutes before it started, but I should have known this would be a
popular event. I took the only
seat available which happened to be next to our special guests for the evening.
As I settled in, I heard the three authors talking and laughing together, no
doubt bonding over their love of writing.

It’s
been said that all emotions stem from love and fear. These two emotions, though vastly different, can be
expressed strangely similar ways.
Rupert Thompson, Wayne Grady and David Gilmour are well acquainted with
love and fear, and each drew from these emotions as they penned the works slated
for the evening’s discussion.

Thompson,
a first-timer to The Writers Festival, read from his book Secrecy. The scene described the first meeting
between a boy and girl in 1690s Italy.
It held all the emotions of first-time butterflies but held a hint of
mystery. His smooth English accent
captivated the audience (myself included), and took us back in time.

Up
next was Grady, a regular to the festival, who shared from his first novel Emancipation
Day. This short reading
impressed me. It gave a small taste of Nova Scotia and provided a first
encounter between unlikely lovers.
The excitement lingered in the air as Grady read about characters’ tension
in meeting for the first time in a blues club.

Last,
but certainly not least, David Gilmour approached the podium to share from his
book Extraordinary. The book focuses on the fear of death
and the fear of lost relationships.
He shared the opening pages where a brother describes his estranged
relationship with his sister and sets the stage for the night to come.

The
audience was filled with wonder as each author transported us to a new place
and time. The discussion gave us a
glimpse into the mind of an author, something that has always been a mystery to
me. The main topic of discussion
was the amount of background research involved in putting these characters and
stories together. From research,
the conversation transitioned to focus on the life of each man, the personal connection
to the characters they wrote.

Gilmour
especially intrigued me, and one thing he said has stayed with me since that
night: “You can get over a woman by turning her into literature but I think the
same can be said about trauma.”
His book was based on the death of his sister and this was a way for him
to approach his feelings and work through them. This got me thinking, what if we all began to write through our
feelings? How much would that
change our perspective on a situation?

As
the event came to a close, it was time for the audience to leave, but we were
left with a gift: a small bit of the life of a writer and the inspiration to
pursue what seems difficult.

With a full house at Knox Presbyterian Church, CBC’s
Laurence Wall introduced to the Writers Festival stage Canada’s renowned historian,
Margaret
MacMillan. Born in Toronto and schooled at such formidable institutions as
the University of Toronto and Oxford University, MacMillan brings a sizable
resume to the table. In 2002, she was named Provost of Trinity College at the
University of Toronto, and more recently, the Warden of St. Antony’s College at
Oxford. The War
that Ended Peaceis not her first acclaimed novel; it follows in the
footsteps of her previous bestsellers Nixon
in Chinaand Paris
1919: Six Months That Changed the World.

The War that Ended Peace explores the reasons for the grand calamity that comprised
the first World War. According to MacMillan, historians have reached no
consensus as to why this war occurred in the first place, and particularly, on
whom to lay blame. To make relevant its lessons for today’s world, MacMillan
examines what the Great War of nearly a century ago means at present: if Europe
could so casually slip into a war of such magnitude without premeditation,
could we do the same today?

To set the stage, a recap of European
history. It was 1914. The preceding century had seen a time of [relative] peace
and stability in the region, as well as the transition from an agricultural
society to an industrial one. Industry led to a burgeoning middle class, a
population the ruling classes feared, if for sheer force of their numbers. The
elites sniffed a revolutionary current—the potential for the proletariat’s
revolt. To stymie revolt and maintain power, they entered war with the notion
that “a good war will brace us up, overcome divisions, and unite society.” Also
at play was the rise of Social Darwinism and its influence in terms of
ideology: “the fittest/strongest nations will survive at war,” and “war is the
highest form of human activity.” Rather naively, there existed in Europe a
strong sense that the war would not last long. MacMillan chalks this up to a
human tendency to dismiss contradictory evidence. The populace reviewed the
prior century’s skirmishes—such as decisive Napoleonic battles and the
Franco-Prussian War, where attacks led quickly to surrender—and expected World
War I to bring the same. There was also a general failure to take into account
what the change in war weapons ushered in by the Industrial Revolution would
bring. More accurate and longer-reaching munitions meant offensive strategy became difficult, and the presence of mustard gas and tanks changed the face of warfare as Europe knew it.

Three of the war’s major players,
England, Germany, and Russia, were governed by three cousins with chips on
their shoulders: King George V, Kaiser Wilhelm, and Tsar Nicolas II. England’s
and France’s colonial conquests had inspired jealousy on the part of Germany,
who wanted a piece of the world’s “pie.” Germany’s Kaiser was eccentric, always
knew best, interfered with everything, talked incessantly, and generally
overcompensated for a physical deformity suffered in childbirth. Tsar Nicolas,
on the other hand, was small in stature, raised by an authoritarian father who
disregarded his son’s ability, thus relegating him to a life of impotency. When
his father passed away, Nicolas was left steering the ship with little to no
experience at the helm. In his weakness, Nicolas was rigid. MacMillan colourfully
characterizes the two men as incompetent heads of state, well suited to be
“postmasters in small towns,” but nothing more.

When all is said and done, Austria,
Hungary, Germany, and Italy are pitted against France, Russia, and England.
Though MacMillan says historians have enough facts to paint a clear picture of
the war, they will always disagree on why
it actually occurred. The takeaway from the Great War, according to the
author, is the need for the world’s established powers to work hard at helping
emerging powers enter the world stage. She likens modern China to 1914 Germany,
and the United States to then-England, and stresses the importance of good
relations to avoid a casual step off a precipice into grand-scale war.

In conclusion, it would take years to
examine all of the causes and factors associated with Europe’s slip into
war—much more time than we were afforded that evening! That said, I thoroughly
enjoyed this insightful glimpse into the Europe of 100 years ago, along with
the pleasure of joining the scores of history lovers seated alongside me to
glean even a fraction of Margaret MacMillan’s years of study and expertise.

A chilly October night in Ottawa in the
nation’s capital, and what better way to warm up than a discussion about
national politics at Knox Presbyterian Church, only a few blocks from
Parliament Hill. Given the cast
(John Ibbitson of the Globe & Mail, Susan Delacourt of the Toronto Star,
Paul Wells of Maclean’s magazine, and host Rosemary Barton of the CBC.), ‘State
of the Nation’ always figured to deliver interesting discussion. But with the Senate scandal in full
swing? Oh, it promised withering good
fun, and insight besides.

The evening was an opportunity for the
authors (all three guests were promoting their most recent books) to talk about
the current political direction of Canada. Ms. Delacourt explored citizens increasingly viewed and
spoken to as consumers by politicians in Canada, charting the growth of
consumerism and its diffusion into politics starting in the 1950s. Mr. Ibbitson outlined his (and Darrel
Bricker’s) argument
that a fundamental and permanent power shift has occurred in Canadian politics,
from the “Laurentian
Coalition” elites based in the St. Lawrence River watershed to western Canada
and the large populations of recent immigrants surrounding major cities,
particularly the 905 belt around the GTA.
Mr. Wells summarized his “political history of Stephen Harper” as Prime
Minister: how he operates politically, how he wins, and how he has developed as
a leader while in power. Ms.
Barton then posed a number of questions about consumerist politics and current
events in the Senate and their potential implications before inviting questions
from the audience.

Arguably the most engaging discussion
centred on the current Senate scandal,
Stephen Harper’s (mis)handling of it, and the impact it might have on the next
election. All three authors felt
that the crisis was real, and comparisons were drawn with other crises faced by
the current government, most notably the coalition
crisis of late 2008 (when a minority Conservative government was at risk of
being supplanted by a Liberal-NDP coalition). Much of the evening involved mutual agreement, at least in
broad terms, but here there was visible divergence among the authors, and it
made for some interesting back and forth.
For example, Ms. Delacourt felt that Mr. Harper had actually lied in
2008 about the functioning of Canada’s democracy but this was challenged by
Ibbitson; Ibbitson felt that current Senate scandal was a more significant
crisis than 2008, while Delacourt and Wells argued the opposite.

If there was anything to criticise
about the discussion, it was perhaps an excessive focus on Stephen Harper
himself. True, he looms large in
Canadian political life, is a polarizing figure, and Mr. Wells’ book is about
Mr. Harper in particular; but a bit less focus on him and a bit more on wider
trends would have been welcome, say a deeper exploration of Ms. Delacourt’s
distinction between consumers and citizens. But this was a minor point. The discussion was generally thoughtful, insightful, and
witty, from four journalists who are not only well-informed from following
Canadian politics for many years but able to view themselves and their
profession with a degree of humour and circumspection. They displayed mutual respect and sought
to avoid partisan or inflammatory language while still
speaking honestly. A political
discussion like that counts for much in these times.

The sold-out event featuring authors Denise Chong and Charlotte Gray and
hosted by CBC’s Lucy van Oldenbarneveld was the second entirely local event
within the fall 2013 Ottawa International Writers Festival. Both
authors have international reputations and have published a number of works in
the past.

Denise Chong spoke
about her latest book Lives of the Family: Stories of Fate and
Circumstance. It focuses on a time during the
mid-twentieth century when families emigrated from China to Canada and
specifically to the Ottawa Valley area. She talked of the political
backdrop to families leaving China during the 1940’s and later. The families
were rebels, in a way, for they chose to settle away from the Chinese
communities in Toronto, Vancouver and New York. She was interested as to
why the families moved to the Ottawa Valley and she wanted to bring into “sharp
relief” the experiences of the Chinese immigrant. Through her research, which
includes conversations with family members, Denise searches to “reveal the
precise moment when a life changes”.

Denise read some excerpts from her book and described several other
portions. She told of the shock of settling in a new country and of the
isolation the families faced. One young woman and her mother, in planning
a move to Canada, had 12 new dresses made and bought 12 new pairs of high
heels. When they arrived in Ottawa they were driven to Carp where they
ended up pumping gas for a living. The dresses and shoes were of little
use.

Denise had attended another Writers Festival Event earlier in the week and
she heard author Michael
Winter speak about writing about people’s lives. Michael’s words
resonated with Denise. He said ‘life is messy, it is chaos and doesn’t
have structure”. Denise tries to take people’s messy lives and give them
structure. Charlotte agreed we all have unstructured lives.

Charlotte Gray’s latest book
The Massey Murder: A Maid, Her Master
and the Trial that Shocked a Countryis a departure from her previous work
as the focus of this book is a true crime. A domestic servant working in
the house of the famous Toronto Massey family murdered her boss.
Eighteen-year-old Carrie shot Bert Massey in cold blood as he walked up
the steps to his home in January 1915. Charlotte was interested in not
only the crime itself but also how the circumstances within Canada at the time
may have impacted the trial. It was early in WWI, women were demanding the
vote and immigrants were arriving from places other than the British Isles.
These factors had a role in the trial and the verdict.

The discussion that took place after the book readings was very
interesting, frank and open. I found hearing about each author’s
experience in research to be fascinating. Charlotte’s leads for a story,
at times, come from a chance meeting when she is out walking her dog in Ottawa.
Denise spoke of hearing about family history from people in their 80’s
and 90’s who have never told anyone of such events before. They realize
that if they don’t tell now, the event will go to the grave with them.

Both women are very interested in exploring the human side of their
subjects. They feel some of what those they interview have felt.
And if it is a painful, emotional story they “weep” with those they are
interviewing but at the same time a part of them is thinking “this is really
good stuff”.

Denise Chung and Charlotte Gray are our local “really good stuff”.
My hope is that you will read their books and discover for yourself.

Although
this relatively early Monday event was more sparsely attended than some of the
evening events of the Writers Festival, I’m certain that those of us who were
present can agree: Masterclass with David Gilmour was an excellent
selection for our lunchtime extracurricular activity.

The event appropriately began by
addressing Gilmour’s recent controversy, in which a large portion of the internet exploded with claims of
homophobia and sexism after the publication of an interview with Gilmour in Hazlitt. Although Gilmour’s
words in the aforementioned interview were perhaps not ordered in the best way,
it is fairly clear that the claims are not true. To be specific, Gilmour’s
implication was not that women writers aren’t valuable; rather, that the
literature he identifies most closely with (and thus that which he enjoys the
most) is literature written by middle-aged men. Gilmour also makes clear that
he would be a second-rate teacher of women writers, and that the work of recent
Nobel Prize in Literature laureate Alice Munro
will undoubtedly be around for the next century.

After clearing the air of the
allegations, host and Writers Fest Artistic Director Sean Wilson opened the discussion
about how reading impacts writing, and specifically, which books have been most
influential for David Gilmour. Gilmour began by specifying that, even on his
best day, he couldn’t write a page as good as Tolstoy’s worst. He spoke quite lovingly of The Great Gatsby, and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s prose style—first
person, past tense narrative—as that which Gilmour has been trying to imitate
for the past twenty years.

He claims that The Great Gatsby falls into a similar category as that of Bob Marley; both seem as
though they were written or recorded yesterday. The “minting” of The Great Gatsby’s prose, Gilmour said, feels like it was published
in The New
Yorker
last week.

Despite his love of Gatsby,
however, Gilmour did make it abundantly clear that there are plenty of
so-called classics that he doesn’t like. For example, Gilmour considers Ulysses by James Joyce to be a “punishingly dull book”, and that it
would be best read during a very long prison sentence. In a brief conversation
with Gilmour after the event, I discovered that we share a dislike of George Orwell’s 1984, which was a vast
relief for me. Gilmour also confessed to me that he may or may not have taught 1984
without reading the entire novel.

Although I’m certain that Gilmour
reads abundantly more than the average person, he admitted that he does not
finish ninety percent of the books he starts. Gilmour’s philosophy is that if
an author can’t ‘get it right’ on the first page, they likely can’t get it
right at all. Further to that end, Gilmour believes that the true test of
greatness for novels is whether you can read them a second time. There are, as
Gilmour pointed out, “shadows and light on the pages” of great novels that move
to reveal new things on a second read.

It is clear that David Gilmour’s
approach to reading has greatly impacted the works he has produced, and his
opinions about various novels are fascinating in and of themselves. Masterclass
was a delight to attend.

In
December of 1969, when 25-year old Denis Hayes is hired by U.S. senator Gaylord
Nelson to direct a country-wide “teach-in” on environmental issues, he leaves
his graduate studies at Harvard University and gathers a small gang of college
graduates to plan what will become the first Earth Day. By the time that day arrives
on April 22, 1970, some 2,000 colleges and universities and 10,000 primary and
secondary schools join the movement. It is estimated that 20 million
participate across the country, keeping alive the memory and the legacy of Rachel
Carson, who is credited as the creative spark behind the modern environmental
movement. Though Carson passed away just two years after her book Silent
Spring was published in 1962, (she had been suffering from breast
cancer and its painful treatment while also facing opposition to her work, with
accusations of being a “peace-nut” and a communist) her compelling work created
enough momentum to eventually eradicate the use of DDT
in pesticides. But during this time, young men and women from the West begin to
actively embody the phrase “to live is to participate” even outside America. Decades
ago, roadside chai stalls in Pakistan and Afghanistan were frequented by shaggy
and shabby Westerners along what came to be known as the “Hippie
trail.” What the locals in Peshawar or Kabul or Tehran must have thought of
these goras I can hardly imagine; the
scene is several stretches of the imagination away from the unfortunate reality
of today.

I have
been reading on the phenomenon of Bohemianism for a while and am particularly
fascinated by the people of the 60s for their part in a long history of dissent
and their contribution to social change. So, at the Writers Festival event “Campaigning
for Justice” with Jo Becker, when the Development Director of the Writers’
Festival mentions he is a child of the 60’s, I am instantly hooked, even though
I was completely absentminded a moment ago and thus didn’t catch his name. That
decade was a time of social upheaval and it laid the ground for several movements
today. The activism of the 60’s took place, as Neil Wilson says (I catch his
name when I meet him after the talk), in response to “a world that was out of
whack with what we felt.” He introduces Jo Becker to the stage to discuss her
book Campaigning for Justice, an
examination of several important human rights campaigns and the new emerging
tools employed in campaigning.

In
speaking with activists, Becker finds something affirming, a fairly common
element that speaks to our oft asked question, “Well, what can I do?” A number
of the persons she speaks with are “accidental activists,” people who found
themselves in their respective positions without ever having really known that
they would be there, or how. Becker, who has been with the Human Rights Watch
for the last 16 years, identifies herself as one of these accidental activists.
During college, she was interested in the area of human rights, and her current
work grew out of an internship position in New York. When she was asked to
teach a course on campaigning for human rights at Columbia University and began
to assemble a reading list, she quickly realized how much of the material on
the subject focused on theory and law, but little on advocacy. I myself have
seen some of this material that seeks to address those perennial issues of
poverty and education in the undeveloped world through the machinations of progress.

In her
book, Becker lists a number of factors or tools that give an advocacy campaign
its legs—a better chance to succeed. The first one, research, is not only the
starting point but, I believe, also the road you get on and stay on till the
end. It’s all about knowing your facts and having them straight. In one
instance, research was a critical component in the campaign against life
sentences without parole for juvenile offenders, a sentence that contravenes
international law but is endorsed by certain states in the U.S. The campaign
uncovered that 60% of the offenders who receive this sentence are actually
first time offenders, and that many of them were not even directly involved,
but rather complicit in the act, at times even unknowingly.

Another
tool is the advantage of broad based alliances, bringing together different voices
in the campaign. The example Becker presents is that of NGOs working together
with U.S. Congressional allies in the case against former Liberian president
Charles Taylor. Taylor had been charged with several counts of war crimes, counts
of crimes against humanity—including murder, rape, sexual slavery, and mutilation—and
one count of a serious violation of international law on account of recruiting
and using child soldiers. When Taylor finally steps down from power in 2003, he
flees to neighbouring Nigeria where he is granted comfortable asylum. However,
Interpol issues a Red Notice and the newly elected President of Liberia, Ellen
Johnson Sirleaf, submits a request of extradition to Nigeria. The Nigerian
government agrees to release Taylor but—and no, as likely as it may seem, this
is not a Robert Ludlum novel, or is it?—a few days after that agreement, Taylor
“disappears.” However, less than two days after Taylor goes missing, Nigerian
president Olusegun Obasanjo is scheduled to meet with then-U.S. president
George Bush. The campaign against Taylor quickly directs its strength toward
pressuring and convincing Bush to deny meeting with Obasanjo until he gives up
Taylor. Bush agrees, the demand is made, and less than 12 hours before the
scheduled meeting, Charles Taylor is “found.” When he is finally tried, Taylor
is sentenced to 50 years’ imprisonment. To make a long story short, though we
need the long stories of campaigns because they are made up of continuous
effort and struggle and should not be trivialized and forgotten, it is the
constant deliberation and action of the campaign along with its spread-out
alliances that provide it the strength to act effectively. The reference to
alliances also reflects on another tool that Becker mentions, which is the use
of multiple points of leverage and multiple strategies, which are important because
human rights advocacy, as she mentions more than once, is not so much a science
as an art.

Listening
to Jo Becker speak about the case against Charles Taylor, and reading about it
afterwards, begins to answer a question prompted by my reading on Bohemianism: “What
happened that dampened the spirit of the 60s and the 70s?” Likewise, at the
start of the event, Neil Wilson reiterates his son’s question to him: “Where
are you guys from the 60s now?” Did the voices of dissent become disillusioned
and turn to despair instead? Perhaps. Though we might be missing the fervour of
that time, and might have more than our fair share of “slacktivists,” and often
times just simply don’t know what we can do, one person I met after the event helped
to turn the tide of apathy and complacency we are all liable to give in to. The
lady, in response to a question I had asked the speaker, invited me to a forum
in Toronto which discusses issues of activism and encourages corporations to
act with social justice. I was pleasantly surprised; I had only heard of how
people meet in such events and form these alliances, as Jo Becker herself had
mentioned. “We’re trying to do our part” she replied, in response to my
surprise. Anyone got a VW van they want to get rid of?

With
Alice Munro's recent Nobel
Prize for Literature, short fiction has received a boost in interest, and
not only in Canada. Short story writing
and reading is "in" – “finally”, and “high time”, as may long term
aficionados are saying. I have to admit,
I have come to appreciate short fiction only recently. With more time on my
hands I am enjoying short fiction more and for a range of reasons. Canada is rich with diverse short fiction
writers, as pointed out during the early part of the discussion at this Writers
Festival event. It appears to be a genre that attracts more women than men, at
least in Canada, though this contention deserves to be further explored (as I
am just now thinking of short fiction by Joseph Boyden, Steven Heighton, and Alexander
McLeod, to name a few, which has been showcased at the Ottawa Writers Festival
in very recent years). Still, our panel members gave a range of good reasons
why they are attracted to short story writing, ranging from particular topics
and ideas that attract them to write a story to exploring and honing their
writing skills and test out new ideas.

Lynn
Coady, shortlisted for this year's Giller Prize
with her collection Hellgoing,
treated us to a short story that drew her back to her childhood, and many in
the audience may well have compared her (fictional teacher) “Mr. Hope” with
experiences in their own youth.

Journey
Prizewinning author Cynthia Flood's new collection of short stories, Red Girl Rat
Boy, from which she read the
title story, addresses a wide range of human experiences. Nancy Richler, author of The
Imposter Bride, says, "There's a rare honesty to Flood's writing.
Her eye is unflinching, her language energetic and precise, her vision bracing,
passionate and entirely lacking in sentimentality." Her book will
certainly get onto my reading list sooner rather than later.

Kelli Deeth's new short story collection, The Other Side of Youth, is
a collection of stories "about missed connections and unrequited desire,
in which characters struggle internally and with each other over issues such as
marriage, childlessness, adoption, adolescent longing, friendship, and death,"
according to the author’s website. She also teaches creative writing at the
University of Toronto. Her description of limited time available for writing
every day led to a broader discussion on writing disciplines among the panel.
Each author has her own approach to time and how to organize it. Lynn Coady
admitted that her energy moves in waves and depends on the subjects and stories
she works on. Taking the discussion further, Kate Heartfield, herself a
published writer in addition to her work as a journalist, asked what many in
the audience likely wanted to know: “How
do you start? What makes you decide to write a story on a particular topic? Are
certain subjects particularly suited for short story treatment?" Lynn Coady explained that for her, stories
tend to come intuitively, often "with a jolt". Cynthia Flood added that she doesn't
necessary decide on the length of a story ahead of time. It depends. Kelli Deeth also said that it is difficult to
explain what makes her want to write a particular story. This brought the panel back to the question
of how, for example, do you get into the mind of a ten-year old child and
capture her thoughts? This led to a
broader discussion of how to capture the voice and perspective of a young
person or child, a challenge that all three authors had experienced. Coady, for example, took a year to work with
the voice of the girl in “Mr. Hope”, the story she had read earlier. She had to dig deep into her own memories,
and at some point it became easy to recreate the voice. Flood added that all our memories exist somewhere
in our brain, but we have to find ways to access them to bring them alive
again.

Having
discussed ideas for stories and how to begin, the discussion moved to endings.
How do the panelists decide that a story is finished? What makes them decide to
close at a particular point? Is it more appropriate to end "with a
bang" or write a more subdued ending?
Obviously, the answer varies story to story but I found interesting what
Lynn Coady added: There can be a point
where it is "safe" to leave the story and leave the reader with his
or her own imagination. Sometimes she may have an ending in mind, but then as
she progresses into the story she ends it at a different point…

One
challenge for any collection is the order in which the short stories are
selected for the publication. Sometimes, a chronological order is the most
obvious, especially when the stories are linked in some way. At other times the
stories are quite diverse and a natural order doesn't impose itself on the
author. All panelists related to this challenge and suggested that at times it
takes a trusted outsider, a first reader or an editor, to bring order and
structure. As readers we benefit from it
– or do we at times mix up the story by other criteria?

I
would like to leave the panelists and the moderator with a great “thank you” for
a very interesting and delightful discussion.